


Hydrangea

by gubby



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Arthur still gets all sick but it's ok, Childhood Friends, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinda, Modern AU, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubby/pseuds/gubby
Summary: Arthur had a ritual in the summers. When he had time away from school, the right weather outside, and family visits that kept his parents plenty busy. Every afternoon he snuck past his back yard, through the hole in the tattered fence, and into the overgrown yard of a house that had been abandoned through his entire memory. That's where you were.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Hydrangea

“Y’ain’t gonna pretend to ignore me if I call you for dinner if I let you go out there Arthur?”

“With Simon giving you a hand in the kitchen? _Never_ , Hosea.”

Arthur had a ritual in the summers. When he had time away from school, the right weather outside, and family visits that kept his parents plenty busy. Every afternoon he snuck past his back yard, through the hole in the tattered fence, and into the overgrown yard of a house that had been abandoned through his entire memory. 

He asked about it a lot when he was younger. He worried that some family would move in and interrupt his secret getaway. Dutch had said nobody would buy that house, not with the history it had. Hosea would elbow him as a reminder that Arthur would still crawl into their bed if he was too scared to sleep alone. So Dutch would shut up after that.

After he forced his way through the fence gap, which was becoming more and more snug as he got older, he’d make his way to the gigantic hydrangea bush on the edge of the property. He’d crawl underneath, and promptly fall asleep.

Arthur told Dutch and Hosea that he’d go exploring. That because the land was untamed there, you could find cooler bugs. He’d bring them home in jars sometimes, as proof, knowing that they wouldn’t want him to fall asleep in strange places.

Then he would open his eyes, but not at all. He was surrounded by a blank space, and the occasional rush of ominous wind that always seemed to come from behind him no matter where he turned.

The only thing there besides him and the wind, was you.

He couldn’t say that he understood you. All he knew for certain was that you weren’t him, and you were his friend. And you were a lot nicer than the girls at school, for sure. You always wore the same clothes, but then again, he supposed that dreams didn’t need to change clothes.

“You came back!”

That’s what you always said.

“I always do.”

And that’s how he always responded.

* * *

“Why don’t you come back with me?”

Your eyes widened, but you continued to stare at the ground while he paused in his sketching. 

“And what ever gave you the idea that I could?”

“I can take back my memories of you. Y’gotta be real. So why not?”

“I can’t. I’ve tried before.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth. Arthur could tell, because it was the same voice he used when telling Dutch and Hosea about his _adventures_ in the yard. You had tried. You just hadn’t had anyone around to help you before.

* * *

Arthur had matured enough that he could hop over the fence instead of climbing under it. Not that he had much of a choice. He was way too big to squeeze through anymore.

The hydrangea remained pristine, without anyone looking after it. He supposed that plants like that could just take care of themselves, they had to survive in the wild somehow. 

He’d still visit. Whenever he had the time. Even when Sean would say he had a basement fridge full of beer and his parents were gone for the weekend. Arthur had never really developed a taste for partying. But he hadn’t ignored all of the joys of being a teenager.

When you’ve known someone for as long as Arthur had known you, it’s hard not to see the beauty in them. You were no exception, and Arthur was in the throes of his first and only love. He knew, desperately, that you loved him too. Even when you pushed him away. 

He told you he was going away to college soon, without even really thinking of it. Without thinking of how that meant he would leave you behind. And it hurt how happy you were for him, at first.

“You should forget about me.”

“What? Sweetheart, I couldn’t. Not you.”

“But you should! You have a life outside of here. There’s so much for you to do. You’ll never be happy if you’re tied down to this place because of **me**.”

The silence was unbearable. You couldn’t face Arthur, and you didn’t sob, but he could still _feel_ the warm tears rolling down your cheeks and onto your clenched fists like venom in his veins. And the dam broke for him.

“Damnnit, why won’t you just come with me?!”

He woke up.

* * *

Arthur went to college. And he met new people. He met new _girls_. And he was beginning to follow your advice.

In fact, he had convinced himself that you weren’t real. Just an imaginary friend. It was about time he parted ways with you. He was too grown for that kinda shit nowadays.

Arthur went through every walk of life when it came to love. He was the playboy. Then, the tamed bad boy, whipped into a serious relationship. Then, he just had sex for comfort, which lead to more problems than it solved. Finally, he was a lone wolf. 

He was tired of the disappointment. The guilt. Was he being untrue by thinking of you, or was he betraying you by being with other people? He had to laugh. The fucking loser who couldn’t let go of his imaginary girlfriend. 

A lot of his friends knew all about you. He told groups of people for laughs, laughing at his younger self for being so silly as to believe you were real. That you were his friend. That he even had some stupid crush on you. How fucking ridiculous was that? Thinking a girl like you could ever be real. That someone could have known his snotty, stupid kid self and continue to love him. That someone could see his facial hair grow in and his voice drop and continue to love him. That someone could know his raw, unfiltered soul and continue to love him.

Yeah. _Fucking hilarious_.

* * *

Arthur was sick, and he knew it. Everyone knew it. The doctor said that he could go home for a while. He knew it wasn’t because he was getting better. It was because it was probably his last chance. But even home was painful.

A lot of the time, Dutch couldn’t look at Arthur’s pallid face and bloodshot for long before he started tearing up. His little boy, all grown up. His baby.

His baby boy was dying.

Still, they tried to enjoy what they had left. Hosea dug out all of Arthur’s old stuffed toys and photo albums. All of his school projects and terrible crayon drawings which morphed into cartoon characters made with #2 pencils gripped way too hard, into thoughtful sketches. Every sticker-covered elementary school report card, to high school honor roll. Pajamas covered in teddy bear print and worn with holes.

Arthur wasn’t strong enough to climb over the fence anymore. He doubted it could support him anyways. So he kicked it in a few weak spots and squeezed his thinning body through, stopping part way through to submit to a coughing fit. The hydrangeas were alive. Not at colorful as he remembered, but alive. So he went underneath, and sleep came easier than it had in years.

“You came back.”

The weakness in your voice was palpable.

“I always do.”

He sat next to you with a wince. Even you looked pained at the sight of him. But you looked the same as when he’d left.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He placed his hand, palm up, into your lap, pleadingly. And even after all these years, seeing you cry broke his heart.

“You won’t like me when I’m up there. I’ve been down here for so long.”

“You know that don’t matter to me. Hell, I reckon I ain’t in any better shape.”

“But it will. I’m so _dirty_. I’m ugly now. You’ll hate me, I know it.”

“I think you know that ain’t true, love.” 

When you cried, he could almost hear the voice you had when the two of you first met. You peaked up from under your lashes, eyes almost as bloodshot as his, puffy with tears.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise. I ain’t ever loved somebody the way I love you. You couldn’t ever be ugly. Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Arthur woke up.

He blearily blinked and winced at the rain dripping through the leaves of the hydrangea and onto his face. The next thing he felt was your grip. So weak, and dry. When he looked to his side, he saw your little hand, and the wrist that trailed beneath the soil. But you were more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Because you were you. And you were real.

  
  



End file.
